


When We Met

by sarahandthegraveyardshift



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, jim is a heart transplant patient, leonard is his fill-in doctor, this is how they met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 22:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahandthegraveyardshift/pseuds/sarahandthegraveyardshift
Summary: James (“Call me Jim”) is 17-years-old and a serious pain in the ass. The doctor hadn't planned on babysitting during his 36-hour shift, but when the head of the hospital pulls you into her office and asks you to make a high-priority patient your number one obligation...Well, you can either say “Yes, Ma'am” or pack up your shit and leave.When Jim and Bones met (in seven parts).





	When We Met

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hi! Hello! You look so lovely today! Thank you for stopping by!
> 
> This story has literally been sitting around in my WIP folder for a century, now, so I figured I'd finish it and post it. Yay!
> 
> These boys are so silly and wonderful. Enjoy!

I. 

“Does it sound different?”

Leonard frowns and glances up into the kid's wide, curious eyes. James (“Call me Jim”) is 17-years-old and a serious pain in the ass. The doctor hadn't planned on babysitting during his 36-hour shift, but when the head of the hospital pulls you into her office and asks you to make a high-priority patient your number one obligation...Well, you can either say “Yes, Ma'am” or pack up your shit and leave. 

And Len kind of likes this place so far. At twenty-three, he's one of the youngest residents to pass through in quite some time. So, of course, everyone is waiting to see him screw up. 

He'll be damned if he's going to let some goofy teen be the end of his barely-started career. 

A goofy teen that, by the way, seems to be missing _a lot_ of medical history. Seriously, his chart has practically no information about him—they even redacted his last name. Who the fuck is this kid? The only thing mentioned, other than the fact that he had a heart transplant three years ago, is a list of his allergies, which is extensive and kind of impressive. How is this kid still alive?

“Why would it sound different?” Leonard grumbles, shifting the end of his stethoscope a few inches lower on Jim's chest and listening intently. 

The teen unconsciously runs the fingers of his right hand over the barely-there scar on his chest and shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno. Shouldn't it?”

Len sighs and takes the earpieces of the stethoscope out of his ears, draping it around his neck. He's one of the few people that still use the “primitive” instrument. In his professional opinion, technology is far over-used and too heavily relied on. 

“No, Jim. There's no reason why it should sound different. It's a heart.”

The teen looks a little dismayed at the words, which throws Leonard off for a moment. “But it isn't _my_ heart.”

The doctor does his best to shake the sentiment bubbling in the pit of his stomach. There's no way he'll ever see this kid again. Why bother getting involved?

“It is now,” he says. The kid stays quiet and sullen for another moment before Len sighs and takes pity on him. Swinging the stethoscope off of his neck again, he offers it to the teen. “Here,” he says as casually as he can muster, “have a listen.”

He isn't expecting the surprise on Jim's face or the delighted smile that follows it, but it stirs something in his chest that he definitely doesn't recognize. He's spent so long making himself imperceptible to his peers that maybe his walls are keeping out the people he's supposed to care about...

Watching Jim listen to his own heart, Len doesn't think he's ever seen anyone concentrate so hard on anything. It's like the kid _wants_ to find something wrong. And when he finally looks up with a contemplative frown, those blues brighter than Leonard McCoy has ever seen, he sighs in defeat and hands the stethoscope back. 

“Anything?” the doctor asks, tone softer than he meant it to be.

Jim shakes his head resignedly. “No. It sounds the same.”

Leonard nods, biting down the _Told you_ on the tip of his tongue and instead saying, “It just has to get used to you. That's all.”

Jim tilts his head with a curious look. “Shouldn't that be the other way around?”

“Do you think it should be?”

The teen huffs in exasperation. “Do you always answer questions with questions?”

Len smirks and taps a few buttons on his PADD. “Only to strangers.”

“I imagine a lot of your patients are strangers, Doc.”

“None quite as strange as you, Jim.”

The teen laughs. “It's Jim Kirk, by the way.” Leonard nearly drops the PADD as he looks up at the kid with what he can only guess is a stupefied look of awe. “I know it doesn't say that on my chart. They like to keep me hush-hush, you know?”

“Kirk,” the doctor repeats. “As in..son of George Kirk. Captain of the USS Kelvin.”

Jim shrugs one bony shoulder and looks to his clasped hands. “For about ten minutes, give or take.”

Leonard swallows and looks back down at the redacted information on his PADD. It makes sense now, he supposes. It's not like the son of a hero would go unnoticed in a place like this. Not for long, anyway. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“Sort of the point, right?” Jim says with a genuine smile. “I'm not really supposed to tell anyone. But I'm kinda tired of the looks that people give me.”

The older man glances up nervously. “Looks?”

The teen nods. “Like the one you've had on your face since you walked in the door.” He smirks when all Leonard can do is gape like a fish. “Like I'm just some politician's brat who has the sniffles.”

“I'm..I, uh...”

“Which, don't get me wrong, I'm definitely a brat,” Jim admits easily, “but I don't like being judged before people get to know me.”

Len regains some of his composure, able to (begrudgingly) relate to the kid's situation. “And what happens after they get to know you?” He knows as soon as he's asked the question that he shouldn't have. 

The smile on Jim's face falters just slightly. How many doctors has he shuffled through? How many bothered to talk to him? What has this kid heard for the last few years other than medical jargon he can probably recite by heart?

Hell, slap a doctor's coat on him and he could probably do his own damn examination. 

Leonard lowers the PADD and clears his throat. “So..where are you from?”

Jim stares for a long moment before looking down and shaking his head. “Doc, you don't have to—” 

“My name's Leonard,” the doctor interrupts matter-of-factly. “My friends, few that they are, call me Len. The staff here—” He glances towards the door disdainfully. “—like to call me 'Bonesaw.' I'm a little old-fashioned.” He wiggles the end of the stethoscope around his neck. “I was born in Atlanta, Georgia, and my grandmother, God rest her, made the meanest bourbon peach cobbler this side of the universe.”

He nods when he's done, taking a breath to steady his nerves. He hasn't talked so much about himself in a long while. 

Jim stares at him a moment longer with those blues that Len is starting to think the kid has no idea hold so much power before he suddenly smiles again and sticks his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Bones. I'm James Tiberius Kirk. My friends call me Jim. Only my mom calls me James. And no one calls me Jimmy.” 

Len smirks and takes the offered hand. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

Jim laughs, and the sound almost makes the doctor sorry that he won't ever hear it again...

 

II.

“Bones!”

Leonard starts at the familiar voice, looking up from the chart on his PADD to find an enthusiastic James Kirk bounding down the hospital corridor towards him. 

“Jim?” he asks as the young man stops in front of him. 

“Hey!” Jim says with a wide grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet a couple times. “How are you?”

Len opens and closes his mouth before stammering, “Fine?” He glances at the nurse behind the counter they're standing at, watching helplessly as she looks between them, raises an eyebrow, and goes back to typing on her screen. “Um..Do you have another appointment?”

It's only been a week since Leonard's first encounter with the young man. Another appointment so soon might be an indication of complications. Did the doctor miss something? Symptoms of organ rejection filter through his head as he gives the teenager a once-over to rule out any outward symptoms. He could move some of his appointments and have Jim admitted immediately...

Unless Jim doesn't want Leonard as his doctor anymore?

Had Len really screwed up so badly?

Jim chuckles and shakes his head as if following the doctor's inner monologue. “No, not a medical appointment,” he reassures. “Just stopped in for a chat with my therapist.”

A chat. 

Right. 

Like he just happened to be in the neighborhood and dropped by for a glass of wine and a bitch-fest. 

Leonard nods. “Oh. Good.” He clears his throat and shifts on his feet. “So..You're here because...”

Jim shrugs one shoulder. “Thought I'd come and say 'hi.' You know, that thing that people do when they see someone they know.”

Leonard _doesn't_ know. Because that's not really something he ever does. But he nods anyway, getting another laugh and a bright smile in return. 

“How's your day going?” the young man asks conversationally, not waiting for an answer before he asks, “Can you take a quick coffee break?”

Leonard frowns and looks down at his PADD, taking a breath to decline the offer—the very _odd_ offer. It's odd, isn't it? A patient asking him to have coffee? A _17-year-old_ patient asking him to have coffee? It's definitely not normal. Or even appropriate. He's not even technically this kid's doctor—just a fill-in for one appointment. 

Amidst his thought process, he hears the nurse behind the counter say, “He was just about to go on break. Weren't you, Doctor McCoy?”

Len's frown deepens, and he glares at the nurse's nametag. “No, _Christine_ , I was not,” he grumbles, huffing as the woman purses her lips to hide a smile. 

“Oh, come on, Bones,” Jim says, leaning against the counter and giving Leonard a smile that the doctor is sure usually gets him whatever he wants. Paired with those eyes of his, Len doubts the kid ever hears the word _No_ very often. “Please? Ten minutes. Fifteen tops. Is anyone dying this very second?”

The doctor sighs. _If only..._

“Fine,” Len concedes with as much aggravation as he can fit into a single syllable. “Ten minutes.”

“Or fifteen,” Jim says absently, smiling so wide that the doctor's frown wanes just slightly. “There's a great coffee place across the street!”

“There's coffee in the cafeteria,” Leonard protests. 

“You mean there's brown water in the cafeteria,” Jim corrects, snagging the doctor's coat sleeve and heading towards the elevator. “There's _coffee_ across the street.”

The older man gives Nurse Christine one last glare before giving in and letting the teen pull him along. Christine sees them off with a grin and a small wave. 

0 o 0 o 0

Leonard gets a black coffee, which he admits is better than brown water. Jim gets a cherry Italian Soda after being reminded that coffee is kind of frowned upon in his medical condition. They sit outside because the teen insists that they won't be able to for much longer, what with winter only a few short weeks away.

The hairs on the back of Leonard's neck stand up on end with the slight chill, but the sun keeps them warm in the autumn air. 

“So, how much longer is your shift?” Jim asks, leaning forward onto the table and giving Len more eye contact than the doctor is really comfortable with. 

Leonard sighs and checks his watch. He hates looking at the time when he's at work—time goes so much slower after he does. “Ten hours.”

Jim winces. “Sorry.”

“Well, it's out of eighteen, so...almost halfway through,” Leonard says with as little enthusiasm as possible. 

“Do you always work so much?” the teen asks, one corner of his mouth quirking. 

“Do you always ask your doctors out for coffee?” He regrets the question as soon as he asks it. The smirk on Jim's lips wanes, and he starts to lean back away from the table. “Hey, I'm..Shit, I'm sorry. I'm not..good. With people.”

Jim snorts a laugh and crosses his arms. “Yeah, I can tell.” He stares Len down long enough to make him squirm before smirking again and saying, “And the answer is _No_. I don't always ask my doctors out for coffee.” Leonard nods and looks down at his coffee cup, fiddling with the heat sleeve. “I only ask people that I find attractive.”

And then Len's coffee is nearly spilled all over the table.

 _Mistake_ , his mind yells at him. _This was a huge mistake._

“Kid—” 

“Don't call me _Kid_ ,” Jim says (demands) with a wrinkle between his brows. It looks wrong there, Leonard thinks, on someone like Jim. “I'm not a kid. I'll be eighteen in January.”

“And I'll be twenty-four,” the doctor states matter-of-factly, setting his coffee to the side. The smell of it is starting to turn his stomach. Or maybe it's the conversation. 

Or both. 

“What's your point?” Jim asks, genuine question on his face. 

Len rolls his eyes. “You're just a—” 

“Don't say it,” Jim warns, holding up a finger like he's scolding the older man. 

Leonard's shoulders drop. “You're... _young_ , Jim.”

“Not that young,” Jim murmurs, and his blue eyes fade just the smallest bit. “Six years isn't that big of a gap, Bones. There are plenty of fifty-year-olds who would be all over this.” He gestures to himself, and Leonard's hands clench into fists. 

Because he _does_ know a few fifty-year-olds who would swoop in and scoop Jim up in a heartbeat. 

“Besides,” Jim continues, sipping at his drink and quirking an eyebrow when Leonard watches his pink lips—tinted red by the soda—wrap around the bendy straw. The teen can't help but smirk when he hollows his cheeks just a little, which makes Leonard's mouth go a bit dry. He puts the drink down and slides his fingers through the condensation on the side of the cup. “When you're thirty, I'll be twenty-four,” he continues conversationally. “And that's not so bad.”

Leonard shakes himself from his thoughts, the thoughts that are telling him, _No, that wouldn't be so bad at all_. He sighs, rubbing at his closed eyes as he sits back before leveling the kid with a tired look. “But you're not twenty-four, Jimmy,” he says, his voice rough. “You're seventeen.” He pushes his chair back and stands from the table, avoiding Jim's beautiful blues. Because if he doesn't...

If he doesn't...

“My break's over,” Len says softly, turning towards the hospital and begging himself not to look back. 

 

III.

Leonard runs.

“Move!” he shouts when people don't immediately scatter in the hospital halls. It isn't uncommon to see a doctor running to get to a patient. Life moves fast—and can end just as quickly. 

And the life that Leonard is running towards...The life that hangs in the balance is one that can't afford to be lost. 

“Dammit, Jim,” he mutters as he rounds a corner and nearly rams into a couple of interns. 

He can hear the screeching flatline long before he reaches the room, and his heart stutters. He'd been fine—Jim had been _fine_ —the last time he was here. No abnormalities. No changes to his meds. This shouldn't be happening. 

This _shouldn't_ be happening!

The room is a flurry of people. Leonard almost doesn't think he should be there, that he'll be in the way. But the second that Nurse Chapel is suddenly at his shoulder blurting, “This is his doctor,” he's thrown into the scuttle with no protest. Nurses left and right begin to throw Jim's stats at him, and the doctor who was first to arrive allows the young resident to take lead. 

For just a second, Leonard can't breathe. For just a second, he stares at this kid who is too goddamn young to be going through this shit. 

_'You're seventeen.'_

For just a second..

_'You're seventeen.'_

..everything that Jim could have been slips away..

_'You're seventeen.'_

..and leaves the world just a bit darker. 

And then that second is gone, and Leonard is _pissed_.

He barks orders and yells when they don't move fast enough. He shouts “Clear!” when chest compressions just aren't enough and he's forced to use the D-fib to start Jim's heart again. 

_Start, damn you._

He grits his teeth and lets the biobed shock the kid, his stomach twisting as Jim's body seizes with the jolt. 

“Clear!”

He shouts the word again. And again. And again, until he can see in the eyes of the staff surrounding him that it might just be over...

It's not. 

It can't be over. 

Not for Jim. 

Not for this silly boy, who is destined to do great things. 

Not Jim. 

_Please, not Jim._

Leonard breathes hard, hands clenching the hand rail of the biobed so tightly his knuckles are white. So lost in his own grief of not being able to save the one person in this universe that deserves to live that he almost misses the harsh blips of Jim's heart re-starting. 

0 o 0 o 0

Leonard wakes with a start.

At first, he's almost sure that the alarms on Jim's biobed woke him. But when his panic settles some and he notices that there aren't any alarms coming from the biobed—just the steady, reassuring sound of Jim's heart monitor—he realizes he woke for another reason. 

There's a man standing in the corner of Jim's hospital room, a Starfleet uniform hugging his thin but well-muscled frame. He's a Captain, from what Len can tell. He'd learned back in high school what different uniforms mean and which shiny buttons and medals make someone more important. 

This man, by the looks of him, is _really_ important. 

Leonard clears his throat and rubs at his face, wincing as he straightens in the uncomfortable chair beside Jim's bed. “Sorry,” he rasps, though he isn't quite sure why he's apologizing. “Can I help you with something?”

“I think I'm the one who should be asking that question, son,” the man says easily, stepping forward and slipping his hands into his pockets. The stance is both open and unsettling. Leonard gets the sense that this usually works for him as an intimidation technique. But the doctor is far too exhausted (and, frankly, pissed that his day off has been entirely spent at the place where he works) to care. 

So he simply raises an eyebrow. 

And waits. 

After a few tense moments, the man smirks and moves to the other side of the biobed. “I can see why Jim likes you.” Leonard blinks but still says nothing. “My name is Chris Pike. I'm a family friend. Just came to check on the kid.” He glances down at Jim's sleeping form, and the stern lines etched into his face from, no doubt, years worth of military experience seem to smooth away. “And you're Leonard McCoy,” he states matter-of-factly, bright eyes centering in on the doctor again. 

Len doesn't twitch a muscle as he says, “ _Doctor_ Leonard McCoy.”

Chris smiles and nods, like he approves of being corrected. “That's right,” he murmurs. “I thought you both might get along.”

The hairs on Leonard's arms stand on end, and he frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Jim's a bit of a spitfire, if you couldn't tell already,” Chris says with more than a little fondness. “He and his past doctors, of which there are many, have never really clicked. And then, all of a sudden, there was you. A man with a reputation for having a few sharp edges. A _Bonesaw_.” The skin around Chris's eyes wrinkles as he smiles at the word. “And a damned good doctor.”

Leonard takes a moment to think before he speaks. “So Jim and I meeting wasn't just because I was filling in for another doctor.”

Chris studies Leonard carefully. “Doctor McCoy, this young man is _very_ special. Not just because of who his father is but because he is bright and stubborn and too goddamn confident in his ability to overstep the line. And no matter what he decides to do with his extraordinary capabilities, he will not be alone in this universe. Not for one second.”

Leonard isn't entirely sure it's an answer to his question. But he knows he agrees. James Kirk is bound and destined to do great things. And no matter the circumstances of how they met, Jim and Len— _Bones_ —have been thrown into each others' paths. 

Hours later when Chris has left with no clear answer as to when he might pop up again and Jim finally wakes, squeezing the hand in his, the first word out of his mouth is “ _Bones_.” 

And Leonard smiles. “I'm right here, Jimmy. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

IV.

Leonard opens the door to Jim's examination room and immediately feels on edge. The tension practically smacks him full in the face, and he's nearly at a loss as to why until he notices a woman sitting in the corner. 

She's lean, and she sits in a way that looks both commanding and uneasy. She is clearly uncomfortable with being here, but the determination on her face makes the resemblance all the more clear.

Jim's mother, Winona.

Wife of Captain George Kirk and a survivor of the USS Kelvin. 

If finding out who Jim was for the first time had surprised him, then the shock of being in the same room as _both_ remaining Kirks should have the doctor absolutely floored.

“Hey, Bones,” Jim says, lacking a bit of the enthusiasm he usually displays. 

Len nods and lets the door shut behind him before giving as genuine a smile as he can come up with. “Jimmy.”

“He prefers 'Jim,'” the woman in the corner says curtly, her hands clenching around each other tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. 

Leonard swallows and nods, taking a breath to apologize. Jim hasn't reprimanded him for using the nickname yet, but if Winona Kirk doesn't want him using it—

“He can call me 'Jimmy' if he wants, Mom.” Jim's words are tight, and he doesn't even look at the woman when he says them. He doesn't want her to be here. 

“How are you feeling today?” the doctor asks, adding a little extra professionalism to his tone as he slides the stethoscope from around his neck and places the earpieces in his ears. 

“Good,” is all the teen responds as he lifts his shirt. Leonard offers him a pointed look as he listens to Jim's heart for a moment. Apparently, they're both playing parts today. 

“Any trouble breathing?”

“No.”

“Chest pain?”

“No, none.”

Leonard purses his lips. “You sure?” 

The teen grits his teeth. “Yeah.”

With a disbelieving huff, Leonard hands the stethoscope over and lets Jim fiddle with it while he palpates the center of the young man's chest where the scar is barely visible. He gauges Jim's reaction while the teen intently listens to his own heart, and when he sees no signs of discomfort, he decides to move on. 

“Taking your meds?”

“Of course,” Jim replies, carefully placing the stethoscope back around Len's neck as the doctor makes notes on the PADD.

“Side effects?”

“Well, besides the craving for pickle ice cream, I think I'm growing a third nipple.”

Len nods like the answer is acceptable. “Any sharp pains in your chest, abdomen, or arms?”

“No.”

“Blood in your urine or stool?”

“Gross. And no.”

“Memory loss?”

“What's that?”

“Nose bleeds? Headaches?” Jim is quiet for a moment, and the doctor looks up. “Jim?”

“Yeah. Some.”

“Which one?”

“Both,” the teen admits. He never usually has a problem admitting symptoms. Nothing about Jim is very subtle.

“Okay,” Leonard says, making a note and deciding to come back to it. 

“Okay?” his mother demands suddenly, and the doctor braces himself. He's dealt with difficult family members before—those who don't understand and are scared out of their mind because they don't want to lose someone they love. 

Doctors are the scapegoats of the medical field. People can't be mad at cancer. But they can be mad at the person who diagnoses them.

“Mrs. Kirk—” 

“My son says he has headaches and nosebleeds, and you just say 'Okay'? What the hell kind of doctor are you? How old are you?”

Leonard takes a breath and reigns his defenses in. “Ma'am, these side effects are pretty common for the medication that your son is taking—especially considering his allergies. There's no need for alarm.”

Winona stands, drawing herself to her full height, and Leonard does his best to keep his hackles from rising. Defense has been all he's had for a very long time. But he can't show it here—not in front of this woman, who has worked so very hard for the past seventeen years to be someone other than George Kirk's widow.

The man certainly left a vast shadow for his family to claw their way out of. 

“My son is sick. I'd say that's _plenty_ need for alarm.”

“Mom,” Jim says sharply, and her demeanor changes almost instantly. She seems to shrink back into herself, and the severity of her exhaustion forms lines around her eyes and mouth. “Why don't you go get some coffee?”

Winona opens and closes her mouth before her shoulders slump, and she nods. Without a word, she leaves the room, letting the door close with a soft _click_. 

“Sorry about her,” Jim apologizes. “She can be a little over-bearing.”

Len shrugs and taps a few buttons on the PADD. “She's your mom.”

Jim snorts. “Barely.”

Leonard frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I don't ever see her. She's gone for _months_ , then she's home for a few days, and then she's gone again.” Jim looks down at his wringing hands. “It's like she doesn't want to be around me.”

Leonard sets the PADD aside and crosses his arms. “Jim, did you even look at her?”

Jim looks up, confusion and surprise on his face. 

“She's tired. Hell, she's _exhausted_. She's worried herself sick over you, and the only time she probably ever hears about how you're doing is when she sits in on doctor's visits like these.” Len hadn't planned on giving a seventeen-year-old a lecture today, but by God this kid is gonna get one. “Jimmy, you are the only things she took away from that explosion. The _only_ thing. Without you, she has nothing. And I'm sure that terrifies her more than anything imaginable.”

Jim is quiet for several moments before he sighs heavily and bites the inside of his cheek. “Can I borrow your stethoscope again?”

Leonard heaves his own sigh, removing the medical instrument from around his neck and placing it into Jim's hands. The teen fiddles with it but doesn't put the earpieces in his ears. Len goes back to tapping on the PADD until the soft _click_ of the door sounds again. 

“Mom, come here,” Jim says quietly, and Leonard looks up to see a determined look on the young man's face. He steps away a few paces to make room for the woman, who stands in front of her son with a sort of hopeful trepidation. 

“Here,” Jim says, holding the stethoscope up. “Put these in your ears.”

Leonard bites his tongue at the unsanitary implications of sharing earpieces...but, then again, he's been sharing them with Jim for several weeks now, so the point is somewhat hypocritical. 

He shakes the thought from his head as he watches Winona do as she's told, watches as Jim says “Listen” quietly into the end of the stethoscope before placing it on his chest, watches as the woman's hard concentration morphs into soft awe. 

There are tears in her eyes when she looks back up at her son. 

Jim takes a shaky breath. “That's my heart, Mom. And it's fine. I promise.”

Leonard drops his gaze and smiles, heading towards the door and leaving the two in this quiet and brief moment of _everything-will-be-okay._

 

V.

Leonard can no longer ignore it. 

The feeling in the pit of his stomach when Jim comes to see him. The younger man is done with doctors appointments for a while and has made it his personal mission to visit Len all the more because of it.

And also to remind him that he is eighteen. 

Which means that soon Leonard will be twenty-four and finished with his residency.

He hasn't put much thought into what he'll do career-wise yet. The hospital has offered him a full-time position with _much_ better pay then he's making now, and his email has been flooded with messages about open positions at hospitals both on- and off-world. None so surprising as the message from Captain Christopher Pike about joining Starfleet.

That particular offer has been floating around in his head since he read it. 

But not today. 

Today is Leonard's day off, and he is letting Jim drag him to a cafe that the teen has dubbed as _theirs_ because of the few times they have spent there on Len's lunch breaks. And the feeling that the doctor can't ignore keeps churning every time Jim smiles. 

Laughs. 

Breathes. 

“I made you something,” Jim says, sucking down the last of his smoothie and licking his lips. 

“Did you?” Leonard asks absently, ignoring the compulsion to watch the gesture. 

“Yeah. For your birthday.”

Len frowns. “My birthday isn't for another week.”

Jim rolls his eyes, like his response to that should be obvious. “I know. But your next day off isn't until _after_ your birthday. So I figured I'd give it to you today.”

Leonard runs his tongue along his teeth. It's a habit, something he does after he eats. He hates having food stuck in his teeth. “Fair enough. What is it?”

“It's a _present_ ,” Jim explains, stretching so that his shirt rides up along his stomach. Len puts a lot of effort into not staring at the trail of hair that disappears beneath the teen's jeans. “It's supposed to be a surprise.”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “So where is this 'surprise,' then?”

“At my place,” Jim says simply, standing and waiting for the older man to join him. 

Leonard stays in his seat, a wary look on his face. “It's not a surprise party, is it?”

Jim laughs, and Len's stomach flips. “Who the hell would I invite to a surprise party for you?” he asks, and that sets the doctor's nerves at ease. “I think Christine is the only person at the hospital that actually tolerates you.”

Leonard smirks as he stands. “She's the only one who calls me out when I'm being an asshole.”

Jim leads them away from the cafe and towards a transport unit. “So you're saying she calls you out _all the time_?”

Len laughs and nudges Jim's shoulder. “Little shit.”

“Old man,” Jim counters. 

0 o 0 o 0

Jim and his mother have a small house on the outer edge of the city, close enough that they can get to help quickly enough should they need it but far enough away that the sounds of city life are sort of muted. And with Winona gone for months at a time, the teen is left on his own quite often. 

“Chris checks in all the time,” Jim assures him when Len states his disapproval. “And I've got—oof!” He's cut off as he opens the door and a very happy Golden Retriever headbutts him in the stomach. “Stacy! Hey, girl! Come on, inside. Let's go.”

Leonard follows after the two of them as they make their way towards the back of the house, half-listening to Jim chatter about how Stacy is trained to get help if he ever needs it and how she's been a great emotional support through the entire experience. The house is surprisingly tidy. Jim must do a lot of the housework himself, too. Len doesn't see a lot of the cleaning technology that seems to be plaguing the city.

His grandmother never had shit like that, either. Always did every dish by hand. 

Jim lets Stacy out the back and motions for Leonard to follow him into the kitchen. “It's my first time making it, so don't judge too harshly,” the teen explains, and Leonard catches just a hint of nervousness. 

There's a glass baking dish sitting on the counter covered by a dish towel, and when Jim removes the covering, Leonard's eyebrows raise. “It's bourbon peach cobbler. I found a recipe somewhere. It's probably not as good as your grandmother's, but...” Jim shrugs as he trails off, watching the older man's reaction carefully. 

“Jim, I..I don't know what to say,” Leonard breathes, looking from the cobbler to Jim's hopeful blue eyes. “Thank you so much.” He reaches out without hesitation, pulling the younger man into a tight hug and reveling in the warm arms that wrap around him in return. He can feel Jim's heart beat steady and sure against his chest, and the teen drags in a ragged breath. 

“I have something else for you, Bones,” he says, the words almost a whisper. 

Leonard's breath catches. “Yeah?”

Jim pulls back from the embrace, but just barely. “Yeah,” he says with a nod before his lips are pressed firmly against the older man's. 

Leonard's only instinct is to kiss back, to pull Jim closer, to run his tongue along Jim's lips until they part. He maneuvers the teen so that he's pressed against the counter, back arcing slightly as Leonard starts kissing along his jaw. 

Jim breathes hard, moaning and biting his bottom lip as their hips collide. His fingers slide into Leonard's hair, and he tugs until the older man's lips are on his again. Jim ruts against him, and then Len's hands are on Jim's ass, his thighs, rubbing and squeezing, then lifting him onto the counter and shoving the cobbler a safe distance away. 

“Shit,” Jim breathes hotly into his mouth, tugging at the older man's shirt until Leonard is lifting it over his head and tossing it on the kitchen floor. The teen's hands roam greedily over the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, why didn't you tell me you were this hot? I would have been all over this a lot sooner.”

Leonard stills, breathing hard as he glances between the teen's eyes. “Jim...are you sure..?”

Jim nods enthusiastically, smiling wide and glorious in the harsh kitchen light. “Always, Bones,” he answers, fingers wrapping around Len's biceps and squeezing gently. “I'm always sure with you.” He pulls the man forward and kisses him until they both need to come up for air. “I want you. I want _us_. Always.” 

His fingers ghost down Leonard's chest and abdomen, making the man shiver, until they find the waistband of his slacks. Jim slides a few fingers just below the fabric and tugs harshly, slamming Len's hips into his own and making the older man groan. 

“Please, Bones?” he begs, licking his lips as his mouth suddenly goes dry. “I need you. Please?”

Even in his lust-drunk haze, the doctor looks Jim in the eye and says, “You'll tell me if I'm hurting you?”

Jim's fingers find the older man's hair again, and he smooths it back gently. “You could never hurt me.” 

Len huffs desperately and drops his head to the younger man's shoulder. “Just promise, Jim. Please.” He lifts his head and levels him with a serious gaze. “Promise you'll tell me if I'm hurting you. Or if something doesn't feel right. Or if you just want to stop. Okay?”

Jim keeps petting his hair as he nods. “I promise.”

Leonard studies the young man carefully, finally asking, “Where's your bedroom?”

Jim smirks. “You don't want to fuck me right here on the kitchen counter?” 

He wiggles against the older man, and Leonard tugs him off the counter by his ass, holding Jim against him as he runs the tip of his nose along the teen's jawline. “Not for our first time.” He drops Jim on his feet and nudges him in the direction of the stairs. “Lead the way, darlin'.”

Jim's lips are parted, and he's breathing harshly as he walks backwards. “Call me that again,” he begs, eyes dark. 

Leonard levels him with a smirk as he saunters after him. “Darlin'.”

Jim shivers, stumbling but catching himself as he reaches the stairs and grabs the railing. “Again.”

The older man reaches a hand out and places it on Jim's hip to steady him as the teen moves backwards up the stairs. “Careful, darlin'.”

“Again,” Jim demands, and Leonard knows in that moment that he'll never be able to deny James Kirk anything. 

“I want you so bad, darlin',” he breathes as they reach the top of the stairs. 

Jim nods, accepting the words like Leonard is preaching gospel and he's desperate for faith. “I want you, too,” the young man says, taking Leonard's hand and pulling him into his bedroom.

The world disappears for a while, and it's just the two of them. 

 

VI.

_One Year Later_

“So?”

Leonard taps a few more buttons on his PADD before looking up into Jim's anxious, beautiful blues. 

“So..what?” the doctor asks expectantly, watching Jim's fingers wring his stethoscope too tightly for comfort. He gently removes it from the younger man's grasp and sets it aside.

Jim squirms and makes an exasperated noise. “Bones, you know what. Now, come on. Do I have a clean bill of health, or not?”

 _Preferably 'or not,'_ Len thinks to himself. 

For the last six months, Jim's mind has been set on one thing: Starfleet. 

Well, that and sex. 

But career-wise, Jim has had his heart set on the stars. And Leonard is absolutely terrified. Because where ever Jim goes, he will follow.

And space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.

Leonard wants to keep Jim—and himself—as far away from that as possible.

Chris has been in constant contact with both of them, offering a steady stream of encouragement and support for Jim's decision, as well as assurances and amused tolerance of Len's reluctance. The Captain's only stipulation is that Jim be “episode-free” for at least a year (which he has been) and that he pass a physical.

Given by Leonard himself. 

Jim had thought Chris was being cruel when the Captain had requested Len be the one to do the medical exam because there is no one who wants Jim to keep his feet firmly planted on _Terra Firma_ more than Bonesaw McCoy. But looking over the results from Jim's physical, Leonard thinks the cruelest thing Chris could do is make him admit that there is absolutely no reason to keep Jim from joining Starfleet. 

Because Jim is fine. _Better_ than fine. And as happy as that makes the doctor, it also makes his chest seize in fear. 

Jim's shoulders drop as he watches Leonard's face, the grim look the doctor directs at the PADD disconcerting on so many levels. “It's not good, is it?” he asks quietly, and that snaps Leonard out of his thoughts. 

Clearing his throat, he quickly sends the results off to Chris (though he's sure the man has somehow already gotten his hands on them) and sets the PADD aside. “No, they're..good, Jimmy,” he admits, forcing a smile as he looks the younger man in the eye. “Great, actually. I just sent them to Chris. He should be happy with the results.”

“Really?” Jim asks hopefully, searching Len for any kind of deception. 

“Really,” the doctor confirms, unable to keep his smile from slipping just a little bit. 

Jim's excitement slips with it. “Then what's wrong? Why do you look like that?”

Leonard lets the last of his smile fall and grimaces as he looks down at his hands. “You know why, Jim.”

The teen sighs and slumps forward slightly. “Bones, you know..you don't have to come with me. We could try the long-distance thing. I'll come visit you, you'll come visit..Well, I guess you won't. But—” 

Leonard is already shaking his head. “That's torture. For both of us, you know that.” He starts to pace and gesture wildly with his hands. “And what happens when you commission a five-year voyage, huh? _Five years_ apart, Jim? Can you—” He stops ranting when he sees the tears on the young man's face, stooping in front of him and quickly wiping them away. “Shit, I'm sorry. Jimmy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm just thinking out loud.”

Jim looks up at him with wet blues, tears shivering in his eyelashes. “I won't go,” he says, voice trembling as he shakes his head. “If you don't want me to go, I won't. It's okay. It's okay, Bones. I don't care about Starfleet as much as I care about you. I'll stay. I want to stay with you.”

Leonard closes his eyes. Fuck, what has he done? Pushing his own fears and insecurities on the younger man—what the hell is wrong with him? Jim is so brave and so confident. He doesn't deserve to feel like this..for Len to _make_ him feel like this. 

“I'm so sorry, Jimmy,” he says again, running his fingers through the teen's hair. 

Jim nods and sniffles. “It's okay,” he says, resignation in his tone. “We'll stay. We'll be together.”

Leonard grasps the back of Jim's neck and squeezes. “No. We're going. Together.” Jim starts to shake his head, but Len presses his palms to the sides of the young man's face to stop the gesture. 

“Bones—” 

“You and me, darlin',” Leonard says— _promises_. “Always. Right?”

Jim breathes deep and releases it in a rushed gust. “Right,” he says, leaning his forehead against the older man's. “Always.”

 

VII.

“Len!”

Leonard grunts as he thrusts deeper into Jim, breath stuttering as he feels the pit of his stomach tighten. As much as he loves when Jim uses the silly nickname he came up with years—ages, eons—ago, he absolutely loses himself when the younger man moans his real name. It means that Jim is lost in the moment of _them_ —together, always.

“That's it, darlin',” Leonard gasps, snapping his hips again—and again and again—until Jim is almost crying for release. “Let go, Jimmy. I got ya. I promise, I got ya.”

Jim arches off the bed, head thrown back as he comes. Len follows after a few more strokes as the younger man clenches around him, thrusting through his orgasm as he empties himself deep within Jim. 

They breathe harshly together for long, lazy moments, Len's forehead pressed into Jim's shoulder and Jim's fingers brushing through the older man's hair soothingly. Leonard could fall asleep like this, still buried inside Jim, maybe waking hard and fucking the man again. 

But, unfortunately, they're both at that age where falling asleep in any position other than side by side leaves aches in places neither knew could ache. 

So Leonard lifts his head, watches Jim slowly open beautiful blues and give him a tired, satisfied smile before carefully pulling out of the younger man and settling at his side. Jim turns so that his back is to Leonard's chest, sighing contently.

“How do you feel?” Len asks after a jaw-cracking yawn, arm circling the younger man's middle and tugging him closer. 

“Mm,” Jim hums, smiling. “Happy.”

Leonard chuckles and nuzzles into the hair at the base of Jim's neck. “Really, though, darlin'. How are you feelin'?”

Jim turns enough so that he can look into the doctor's drowsy gaze. “Really happy,” he says seriously, waiting for Len to blink the tiredness out of his eyes before smiling wide. “You?”

Leonard returns the smile, kissing his husband and Captain of the Starship Enterprise long and love-drunk. “Happy,” he agrees, bringing a hand up to stroke the side of Jim's face. “Really happy.”

“Promise?” Jim asks, eyes already beginning to close as he drifts into sleep.

“Always, darlin',” Len promises, following him into sleep like he's followed him for years—ages, eons—and like he'll follow him to the end—together, always.


End file.
